


one foot in the groove

by hyrulecastle



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, i want to tag this pwp but it feels like neither porn nor plot happens here, no spoilers but mention of two characters introduced l8r in the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-11-03 21:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20681429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyrulecastle/pseuds/hyrulecastle
Summary: Who the fuck goes to a party in the middle of doing their laundry?





	one foot in the groove

**Author's Note:**

> some lore to this fic if you're willing to know: in 2016 me and my sis were going to (diff) colleges, and i went into her dorm laundry room and saw a white board that said "please leave your number if you're going to leave the room" etc. instant fic idea! and around that time i was interested in voltron so i started this as a keith/lance fic. i wrote up a lot of it, didn't finish it, fell out of voltron, got into bnha at some point and then made it a todoroki/kaminari fic. wrote up into around where the porn starts. now it's 2019 and this mess is still largely unchanged from how it was three years ago! a few days ago i thought, i need to do something with this fucking awful thing, and i'm really into feth right now so maybe i'll just make it sylvix! yeah! why fucking not! then i didn't do it. then maybe a day later my sis [made this tweet](https://twitter.com/justiceisover/status/1172967398716170240) completely independent of my half-baked plans to convert this thing, so i said why fucking not! forreal! and here you have it. 
> 
> jsyk the original inspiration behind this thing was that i like imagining _somewhat_ stoic characters (like keith or todoroki) as being really horny for no reason. i genuinely just think it's funny. felix is not a character i imagine to be like that at all, but for me to do as little work remodeling this thing as possible he just has to be horny. in that regard the ooc is intentional, i hope you'll forgive me

The clock on the wall says eleven forty-five, but Felix has been running on a combination of black coffee and only two hours of sleep. By the time he actually figures out what the hands mean, a pack of drunk, noisy boys have walked past the laundromat doors—one of them wolf whistling at him through the glass—and are out of sight before he gets the chance to flip them off.

Felix doesn't have the time or patience for this. To be fair, he doesn’t have the time or patience for much ever, and this week in particular had been especially hellish.

On Monday, when Hanneman gave him the first C of his entire life on a paper he had spent hours writing, Felix knew it would be one of those weeks where he should've restocked on painkillers. And he was right. On a _Friday night_ every single damn washing machine was being used.

Someone hadn’t even separated their clothing properly, and Felix stares disgustedly as a red sweatshirt bleeds onto a white sock like it's the most obscene thing he's ever seen in his life.

It takes no less than half an hour for a machine to beep, but Felix’s troubles are far from over. He’s the only one in the room.

_Ten minutes_, he thinks darkly. It takes another minute for him to read the clock. The only sounds in the room are the rumbling of the machine and the bench creaking underneath him as he slouches further into himself. _They're only getting ten minutes._

Felix gets it. He totally understands that laundry etiquette aside, patience is a virtue. And he’d totally love to grant whoever’s stuff just finished washing more time to collect their things before he’s forced to extract their damp clothing from the machine for them. But this time around Felix has more to worry about than touching someone else's soggy things. 

Like touching his own soggy dick. 

Bernadetta almost never leaves their room ever. Felix wonders if she ever actually gets any sun, and while they were originally on you-do-your-thing-I-do-mine terms, as the semester went on he found himself dragging her along with him out of their dorm more often than not with a kind of concern for her vitamin D levels. 

Tonight happened to be one of the rare weekends where she decided to remind the surface world of her presence of her own volition, and Felix could thus masturbate without feeling his guilt permeate through the thin walls of their shared living space.

Tuesday was another such night where she had decided to leave the dorm. Felix, with his increasing hatred for the worst seminar on Earth, had decided the best way to vent his academic frustrations would be to jack them out while blessed with a few moments of solitude. 

Except Felix’s life still sucked. Meaning that she came home early. And then had walked into his room to ask about dinner, only to find Felix with his pants unzipped and wiping his hand with a tissue.

Felix hadn't been planning to come out to Bernadetta, or anyone, but he hadn’t closed his computer fast enough, and Bernadetta was able to see the forms of one man thrusting into another on the screen before he had slammed the thing shut. To make matters so much worse, she had already known.

“You spent the entire day staring at Ashe when I introduced him to you last semester,” she had said, with a knowing albeit extremely embarrassed smile. 

Oh Ashe, sweet, sweet Ashe. Perks to being Bernadetta’s roommate included her bringing her lab partner to their dorm to work on some science project, and Felix would find small reasons to move around their suite to catch glimpses of him. Ashe had this whole “I'm a total sweetheart” vibe going on and man, Felix never usually let strangers (or even people he knew) touch him, but Ashe had started to greet him with these one-armed hugs, nicely toned from being a member of Claude’s archery club, and Felix was not going to be the one to turn him down.

The whole porno ordeal is part of the reason why Felix had declined Bernadetta’s invitation to study (read: play Super Smash Bros.) over at Ashe’s place that night. Wanting to just contemplate his shitty week in peace and not feel bad about ogling one of the genuinely nicest people he'd met since the semester started, he told her that he was planning to spend the night studying.

“Remember to lock your door, though!” she had said when she was leaving, fishing in her pocket for her keys with a nervous smile. Felix aims his jacket at her head, ears burning. She had only caught it, pulled it on and then with a shy wave she was out the door.

He can’t even be offended. Not when his Friday night plans were: laundry from eleven thirty to one, wank in his failure, lie awake thinking about his grade point average, then sleep. It would've been perfect too, if not for it currently being twelve thirty and this motherfucker having yet to come get their clothes.

Felix turns to the whiteboard on the wall and more importantly, the sheet of paper taped above it.

_Write your name and contact info underneath the number of the machine that you are using._

He looks on the board for machine number three.

There's no name, just a winky face and a phone number, the only one on the board, scrawled in a dying red marker. Felix isn't one to really call his own friends very often, let alone a complete stranger. But this person is getting in the way of his agenda. 

They pick up on the first ring.

“Your clothing’s done and I’d like to use the machine,” Felix says, interrupting the confused hello on the other end.

There's loud music playing in the background and it makes Felix want to punch the wall. Who the fuck goes to a party in the middle of doing their laundry? It takes a few beats for the person to respond.

“What?”

“Your clothes,” he repeats. The ones you were washing in the laundry room in the Lions dorm before you decided to go to a party.”

The number isn’t some kind of prank, thankfully, because they say. “Oh. I can't get those right now so if you could be a dear and put them in the dryer for me, that'd be great. Thanks.”

Felix has to resist the urge not to hang up. “I’m not touching your wet clothes.”

“Then you're just gonna have to wait, buddy.”

“I’m not your buddy.”

“Pal, then.”

_God._

“Look, just come get your stuff. I want to go back to my room.”

“Long day? Wanna talk about it? I’m all ears.”

“No.”

To Felix’s annoyance, they don't falter. “Why not use the other machines?”

“They're all full. Yours was the only one close to finishing when I got here. You're also the only person who left their number.”

“Sucks to be you, pal.” 

Here Felix honestly contemplates just coming back tomorrow, but tonight is really the only free time he’s going to have before he throws himself back into his masochistic work grind. Papers didn't really write themselves.

For some reason the person has not hung up the call. Actually, they’re still talking.

“Why are you even doing laundry now? It's Friday night, go out and get drunk or something.”

“Sorry...for wanting clean underwear?”

“Oh, so you’re going commando right now? That's kinky.”

Felix lets out an aggravated noise and the person on the other end laughs, loud and clear over the music. The sound strikes a chord in Felix that he mistakes for annoyance. He’s not sure why he hasn’t hung up yet.

“Are you going to come and get your stuff?”

“Sorry, I’m busy having a great time and not being the most boring college student to walk the Earth.”

“If you’re having such a good time why are you on your phone?”

A pause. Felix thinks, _Gotcha._

“I was getting someone's number when your call came on the screen.”

“I don't believe that.”

“I really was! Her name is Monica and she's totally hot and not a waste of my time unlike a certain someone.”

“I don't want to hear about wasting time from you, but hang up the call then if you're so busy.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Felix pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, willing the oncoming headache away. Then something clicks.

“Wait, what did you say her name was?”

“Monica?” the voice says, sounding a bit skeptical. “Why? You jealous that some of us are gonna get some action tonight?”

Yes, Felix thinks bitterly. But that isn't the issue here. The immediate one anyways.

“You didn't actually give her your number, did you?”

“No, I didn't get to. Thanks to you.”

“You _should_ be thankful. As soon as you leave that party she'll call you to distract you while her friend jumps you.” Felix had bumped into her at the one party he went to this semester, and maybe she guessed he wouldn’t have entertained her otherwise, because her pretense was that they were in the same lecture and she had wanted him to lend her his notes instead of whatever greasy flirting she probably used to lure in the idiot he was currently talking to. Good thing he’s been taking taekwondo since he could walk, because Metodey-whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is made an easy choice between having his arm broken or returning his wallet.

“And why should I trust you?”

They have a point. No reason to stress himself out any further. 

“You're right. I’m just some stranger that has no obligation to you whatsoever,” Felix responds coolly. “As a matter of fact, I think I’ll just take your stuff out of the machine like you suggested so we can continue with our nights. Bye.” He makes sure to take an extra second longer to pretend to hang up the phone, because he figures this person will be just that difficult.

“W-wait.”

“Hmm?”

“Will she actually, like, do that? She seemed really nice, y’know?”

“True, could just be some other Monica. I’m sure there's plenty of Monicas on campus.”

No response. Felix sighs into the phone. All the deities in heaven had better reward him with the best fap of his life for his altruism after he gets this over with.

“Does she have red hair? Wears really bright lipstick?”

“Yeah, yeah! Super cute, looks like she’d stab me in the back?” The person says before adding in a small voice, “Although that’s kinda hot too...not that I'm into that.” 

Felix just ignores them. “...Right. She should be with some sleazy-looking guy with a middle part, name’s Metodey. Tall, brown streak in his hair. Looks like he’s always plotting something.”

“Detailed description.” 

“Not my fault he's hot,” Felix says. He had been, maybe. In like a pathetic kind of way. Then there’s silence on the line, and Felix realizes what it is he had said out loud, the coffee having moved on from overworking his brain and more onto making his thought process barely function. He presses a hand to his forehead, a useless gesture because it's not like the person on the other end can see him panic.

Then the person continues talking, and Felix hopes it’s because they’re looking for Metodey and not thinking about what he said. If they are they don’t let on.

The voice comes back after a minute. “Yeah, I see him. They're standing next to each other but talking to different people.”

“Okay. Then now would be your chance to get out of there before they notice you're gone. Oh, and since you’re leaving,” Felix pretends to sound like the idea just came to him, “you could come pick up your laundry.”

There’s an exaggerated sigh in response and Felix feels smug. “Are the other machines seriously still going?”

“Half an hour left at least.”

A sigh. “Fine, alright. This party sucked anyways. Gimme ten minutes.”

They show up in five, a bit sweaty and out of breath. 

Felix wouldn't have noticed him come in—he was too busy reading the clock—if not for the doors being slammed open, and a guy loudly panting like he had actually ran the entire dorm-to-dorm distance from the party to the laundry room.

They look at each other longer than Felix would expect strangers to look at each other in the bright lights of the laundromat, but he chalks it up to not expecting obnoxious laundry guy to be hot.

He's lean, and even though his eyebrows are thin his face is very pretty. His skin looks healthy, his hair is bright red and gelled into some kind of asymmetrical style that doesn’t look too bad either, and his arms are nice.

A tiny “oh” from the guy snaps Felix out of it.

Tonight is weird, Felix decides, because he chooses to break the silence.

“You ran all the way here?”

The guy flinches, which makes Felix remember that he was essentially dealing with a stranger he had just teased over the phone, as well as a stranger who had implied he wasn't wearing any underwear.

“Well I mean, y’know, didn't wanna keep you waiting any longer.”

Felix scoffs, but goes along with it. “Well hurry up, then.” 

“Right. Right, laundry.” And so the guy walks over to the machines and begins to look around for his stuff. Felix does not try at all to not look at his butt while he takes his clothes out and dumps them into a dryer. The guy turns around suddenly to look at him, and Felix snaps his eyes back upwards to meet his eyes. He feels like he's losing his mind.

“Uh,” he says sheepishly, “do you have any change?” 

As it turns out, this guy has no idea what the fuck he's doing. All of his white socks are now coloured a light blue.

“My roommate usually does this,” the guy says, laughing very casually, and Felix barely hums in response, shoving his own clothes into the washing machine and poking coins into the slot.

A silence hangs over them while they wait for their respective belongings. Felix doesn’t mind, he likes silence. But the guy clearly does not share the sentiment. He rotates between humming, scuffing his shoes against the ground, and flipping through his phone enough times in the corner of Felix’s eye before Felix lets out a sigh. He closes a book and places it on the bench where the guy hadn’t left a generous amount of space between them. When Felix shifts his position to look over at him, the guy smiles. Felix raises an eyebrow, and he's about to say something but he gets lost looking at the length of his eyelashes. Why are they so long?

“How do you get your nails painted so neatly?” The guy suddenly asks, sounding genuinely curious and not only like he’s trying to fill the silence, which Felix allows himself to appreciate. He hates small talk.

“A friend does it.” Annette liked to stop by every now and again, and had somehow taken up the habit of painting her nails and then his as they sat in front of some movie she never really paid attention to. 

The guy hums, thoughtfully. “You should hook me up,” he says, and Felix’s brain focuses on the _hook_ and _up_ part of that sentence. He coughs into his fist to dispel any weird thoughts, looks at the black polish on his nails, but then the guy yawns and stretches his arms, and the stretch of skin where his shirt pulls up is enough to get Felix focused again on how pent up he is and finally getting back to his room. 

The machines have around fifteen minutes left, and then Felix will finally be left to deal with his physical desires alone and in peace.

Or not.

“How comes you're cooped up in here, man? There's at least five different parties going on around campus, y’know?”

“Not interested,” is all Felix says, not even bothering to shrug. 

“Hmm, you're no fun. If I had a face like yours I'd be all over the place.”

Felix thinks his brain must have finally given up pretending to be alert, because there's no way he heard this guy properly, or he's just reading too far into it and the guy just forgot to attach _no homo_ at the end.

Felix waits for the cursed phrase but it doesn't come. By the time he decides to respond it's been long enough for it to be impossible to say something that sounds unaffected without it being awkward, so he opts to be honest.

“What does that mean?”

The guy pulls a face. “You're handsome, you know that right? You don't have mirrors in your room?”

_You could come up and confirm that for yourself_, Felix doesn't say. The guy probably is not flirting, he sounds much too casual for that, but Felix has misread worse. Wait, wha—

The guy continues to speak. “You're like my roommate. A real angel if I’ve ever seen one, but instead of going out and charming the whole world around him, he just stays in and does nerdy shit. Like homework.” 

He's kind of just rambling now. Felix wonders for a moment if he drank anything at the party. He hopes not, he's willing to get in bed with a stranger, but not a drunk one. 

“He’s probably at home right now, even...” the guy is saying, thankfully cutting off Felix’s increasingly desperate trains of thought. “He’s a real cutie, y’know? Freckles, grey hair. I feel like most people can’t actually rock that hair colour as much as they think they can, but him? A real natural.”

Felix thinks that there's about the same amount of grey-haired freckled angels as there are bloodthirsty redheads named Monica at this school.

“You're roommates with Ashe,” Felix says, not asks.

“Oh, yeah! You know him?” The guy says with more energy than Felix has had in weeks. Felix nods, thinks something along the line of _especially in my dreams_, before telling his brain to behave.

“Hmm, is that purple haired girl that dropped by earlier yours, then?”

Felix nods. “We live in this building. She and Ashe are lab partners, or something like that. I think.”

He makes a face. “What's with that, man. Shouldn't you keep proper tabs on your girlfriend?” 

It takes a good amount of moments for Felix to realize he's misunderstood what the guy meant by “yours” and that he's assuming that he and Bernadetta are together, and he's not usually prone to dramatic reactions, but if he were drinking something he'd spit. Felix doesn't have a straight bone in his body, and Bernadetta, scared of most people, very rarely expressed romantic interest in other humans. 

“We’re not like that,” Felix says, shaken, and the guy looks shocked.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” He flat out asks, amazed in a way Felix might have found annoying if the guy’s reactions weren’t coupled with his pretty, wide-eyed face.

Felix just shakes his head. He’s been through all this before. He's expecting him to say “huh, what a waste,” next, but he doesn't. Instead, he just changes the topic.

“So… a boyfriend, then?”

Felix doesn’t need to be drinking anything to start choking on his own spit. The guy immediately hovers his hands like he’s not sure if he should do something. Tempting to have those hands on him, Felix thinks, but he’d much rather die right now.

“Sorry, sorry. Lemme not get ahead of myself. You seemed kind of…”

“Kind of…?” Felix repeats, his voice sounding suddenly harsh.

The guy holds up a placating hand. “Interested in that Metodey guy? For like a second there. Over the phone I mean.”

“Oh.” Is all Felix says. He was expecting some crap about his appearance or something.

“This isn’t really the kind of stuff you would talk about with strangers, huh? But you seem… easy to talk to. Like you don’t judge, I guess.”

That’s definitely a first. He’s not even sure if he’s a bad listener because he’s never had the chance to try. Most people just assume his cold demeanor is enough to tell what conversations with him would be like. Not that he cares, of course.

Then Felix realizes what he’s really trying to say.

“Did you hit on Monica?” Felix asks, despite himself, like it’s a casual change in topic.

“Nah, she came onto me first. Shoulda known somethin’ was up from there.” He says easily, and Felix raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. However, he continues his questioning.

“And if it had been Metodey?”

“Huh?”

“Metodey. That had come up to you. Would you have gone with it?”

The guy looks at him, searching for something. The look feels a bit familiar, something like an “is this a bad idea.” Felix even feels himself relax when the guy decides that it isn’t.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I see.”

And then there’s silence. And then the machines start to beep, signaling the end of either of them needing to be in the laundromat, now that their clothes were finished.

Felix gets up first, not too quickly but not without purpose. He wants to get out of there fast, not sure if he’s really willing to finish what he started.

But the guy gets up and walks over to where Felix is hastily pulling clothes out of the dryer. “Let me pay you back,” he says, “for the change. And, uh, for helping me not get mugged?”

Felix blinks. The guy continues, “I only have cash?”

There’s a short pause. “...I have spare change in my room,” Felix says carefully.

“Well, if you don’t mind the intrusion…”

They finish packing up their stuff and hike it up the stairs without really saying anything.

The baskets are left by the front door, the door is locked. They walk quickly into Felix’s room, lock that door, too, and Felix might be starting to sweat a little but under the dim lights of his room, worse things have happened.

“To be clear,” Felix says, trying to not sound impatient, “are we on the same page here?”

The guy raises his eyebrows, looking playful, but he can’t hide the hopeful tone in his voice either. “We’re going to have sex? Or at least make out a little.”

Felix shudders a little at the thought. “Okay.” And Felix feels relieved, nervous, even, when the grin on the guy’s face gets that much wider.

“What’s your name?” Felix asks.

There’s no response, and Felix finds that the guy has adopted this dazed look on his face.

“Sorry, what was that?” he says, staring right at Felix. Felix doesn’t squirm, but he’d be lying if he said his gaze wasn’t starting to make him embarrassed.

“Your name.”

“Oh, Sylvain. Have we not yet done that?”

“Felix. And no, it slipped my mind. Why are you staring at me like that?”

At that Sylvain gives him a smouldering look, a very practiced one by the looks of it. “Ah, well I did say you were handsome, didn’t I? Just taking it in.”

Felix isn’t able to stop himself from looking stunned, definitely feels his eyes widening in surprise. He does manage to stop himself from punching the guy to dispel the embarrassment though, maybe that wouldn’t make the best impression and he _was_ trying to get laid.

Sylvain steps forward towards him, then, and starts to circle an arm around Felix’s waist. Felix feels his heart beating in his chest. He hasn’t done this in a while. 

“Do you not get complimented often?” Sylvain is saying, “your reaction is unexpectedly cute.” 

Felix narrows his eyes, embarrassed. “Okay, that’s enough of that,” he says, and leans in. 

Sylvain’s lips are soft, and he smells really good, clearly the type to have been wearing cologne for so long that he actually knew which ones worked. Felix hadn’t started off the kiss in a way that could be called chaste, far from it. Everything he did was urgent, in some way, and Sylvain was definitely into it, catching Felix’s bottom lip between his teeth and allowing Felix’s forceful tongue into his mouth.

They pull apart, and Felix smiles at the fact that that grin is no longer on Sylvain’s face. He’s panting, eyes lidded and looking at Felix in a way that’s a lot more focused now, at his mouth and then at his eyes before leaning in again, this time, to lick at Felix’s neck.

“Not where it shows,” Felix says, gripping Sylvain’s arm. 

“Aww,” Sylvain says against his throat, “but I think I’m really starting to like you.”

Felix can’t help the groan that escapes him when Sylvain bites down closer to his collarbone, hard, harder than Felix was expecting. He kisses upwards along Felix’s throat until their lips meet again with even more energy than before, and Felix tries to steer them away from the door and towards his bed, until Sylvain’s seated against the foot of it and Felix is leaning into him further still.

Sylvain moves away, smirking. “Wow, someone’s impatient.” 

Felix just rolls his eyes and then openly stares at where Sylvain is half-hard in his jeans. “I would say you’re eager, too.” And maybe he’s a little amused. Just a little.

“Well, can you blame me?” Sylvain winks, and Felix can’t stop himself, he swats at his shoulder and Sylvain just laughs. 

“You’re pushing it,” Felix says, more tired than he is annoyed, and Sylvain responds by running a hand over Felix’s ass.

“Sorry, kind of a habit.”

“How about talking less, then?” And Felix pulls his shirt over his head, tosses it somewhere near his bed, and then moves to pull Sylvain’s shirt off too. 

Of course Felix can’t help but stare at his body, doesn’t hesitate getting his hands on it either. Sylvain makes appreciative noises as Felix rubs his hands down and over his chest, swipes a thumb over one of his nipples and leans in so that Sylvain can properly grip his waist.

“Wait,” Sylvain says, “let up.” He pats his hand against Felix’s back and Felix sits up from where he had been kissing Sylvain’s neck, slings his leg over so that he’s no longer hovering over Sylvain’s lap. Sylvain moves backwards onto the bed then, presses himself up against the headboard and with a teasing grin, pats his lap. 

Felix just sighs, but resumes his position on top of Sylvain, getting to work on the zipper of Sylvain’s jeans. He wastes no time yanking his underwear down to free his cock, stiff against his body. It’s huge, and Felix is unsurprised at that, but his heart still jumps. It beats loud in his ears, too, at how Sylvain looks so goddamn eager when Felix shimmies his own underwear down, so Felix stops looking at him and focuses on getting his hands around the both of them. 

Felix doesn’t mind doing the work here. It’s leagues better than being on his own, and he’s enjoying the way Sylvain’s reactions become less and less guarded when Felix does something he apparently likes, grinding upwards when Felix swipes his thumb over the tip or pulls his hands down slowly. 

One thing, though, is that Sylvain has not stopped looking at him. It doesn’t bother him, or anything, just makes it hard to concentrate. Especially when he’s leaning over, more and more, into Felix’s space. “Good,” he says, “you’re good, so good...” and his voice is low, like they’re sharing a secret. Felix is thankful the lights in his room are so shitty, because he can feel his ears burning red. 

Felix keeps up his ministrations until Sylvain is gripping at Felix’s arm, spilling over his hand with a groan against Felix’s shoulder. Felix comes quickly after him, not too loudly, and then wonders what to do with his sticky hand.

“I kind of wanted to hear you come,” Sylvain is saying, leaning his head onto his hand casually, looking Felix right in the eyes.

Felix uses that same sticky hand to poke Sylvain in the forehead, away from him, he’s so thankful the lights are dim. “God, you talk so fucking much.”

Sylvain just chuckles, Felix does not know what is making him smile so much, but whatever. He’s tired, much too tired to really think too hard about it and instead allows himself to fall backwards on his bed, soaking in the silence he knows will be short-lived. 

“You know, I’d be down to do this again,” Sylvain says before a minute can pass quietly between them.

Felix doesn’t say anything in response. He can’t say he’s a fan of new things in his life, he’s used to it being something negative. Something in him is saying brown eyes looking into his—a hand clutching at the hair by his neck—isn’t so bad though. There’s a hand near his leg where the two of them are kind of tangled together, Sylvain’s head on Felix’s pillow, Felix’s head at the end of the bed. He knows it’s there because it keeps accidentally brushing against his ankle and then moving away.

“Your place, next time,” Felix says, and then coughs awkwardly. “My roommate is usually always home.”

Sylvain perks up, his hand reaching to grab at Felix’s foot and pull him in closer. “Just pick a date, then. I’ll _definitely_ make you scream next time,” and he punctuates that promise with an awful wink.

Felix has no need to be scared of chasing him off anymore, so he kicks him. And when he does, and his foot connects with Sylvain’s waist not as hard as he could’ve, well, that’s not for Sylvain to know. And when Sylvain just laughs, and Felix's heart rate picks up again, that's not really for Sylvain to know either.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you sarita for beta'ing this thing and helping me work through the kinks! i never want to read it again! <:)


End file.
